Being Good
by Blasen
Summary: A chance meeting at a new bar makes America a little curious. England is on a rant on how good of a lover he is, and well, America is just being a good person by testing that statement. USUK.


**Oh yes. Yes indeed. I am creating a series hetalia oneshots because I'm a terrible writer with half way good ideas! HUZZAH!  
All focused around America because I have become Hetalia crazed. I blame my need to learn about history yet to be entertained at the same time.**

America drifted into a nearby bar with a sadden look in his eyes. He ignored the party goers, who, on any other night, he would have joined in their most likely impromptu rejoicement, laughing and smiling his merry way. However, America was free to be himself at the newly opened bar with equally new members and was not required to hold his facade. Sliding into one of the tall chair seated near the counter he ignored all who smiled and winked at his direction. Drunks were drunks after all. He forgot all walls he previously would have established, and some of the childlike luster was lost in his eyes. Somberly, he tapped on the counter and waited for the bartender to ask him for a drink.

"Brandy." Was all Alfred could bring himself to say back. He must have looked rather dejected amongst his lively citizens, although, there were a few similar to him, in the corners of the bar just drinking without a word. Once his drink was in hand, Alfred sipped down the liquid like it was honey, then after a unusually short amount of time, asked for another one. The bartender gave him a look of a clash between sympathy and irritation. Most likely thinking of how there was just another soon to be drunk off his wits man to deal with tonight.

It was difficult to hear any full outstanding comments from the loud and jumbling words from the other people in the bar, but America couldn't seem to bring himself to care. It was all just a distant buzzing in his ears. With his second drink down, America was nowhere close to even a slight tingle in the back of his head. It would take much- _much_ more to get him as intoxicated as he wanted to be.

"Sir, just keep filling these up once they're gone." America said in a monotone voice. The man behind the bar nodded and left silently to fetch him another glass. It was at this moment, that Alfred smelled the thick scent of rum, only to find England sitting not too far away. Immediately, America brought his shield back up. In bewilderment, he nearly forgot to take the new glass of brandy from the worker. Practically stuttering on his own words, America laid a hand on England's shoulder.

"Arthur? Arthur, is that you?" His voice was barely audible against the loud talking of the other patrons. England, however, seemed to have heard him well enough.

"Alfred. This night just got so much more interesting, do you agree?" The older nation responded, his words difficult to understand under intoxication, but America was used to deciphering England's drunk code.

"What are you doing here?" America asked, his voice now louder than all the other partiers in the bar. His loud outburst caused some of them voices to die off, but the building was still generally noisy.

"What? I can't enjoy a night at the bar all by my lonesome? Of course you are here. I'm not even that drunk yet. I didn't want to see you, actually." England usually spoke much more while drunk. At least, for his first stage of intoxication. His words caused America to reel his hand away and back to his drink. For a while, they did not say anything to each other. Until, America had finished his fourth glass of brandy and finally achieved the fuzziness in the back of his mind. The bar worker promptly brought him another one.

"Why are you getting drunk tonight? It's not exactly my birthday." America said bitterly and swirled the liquor in his mouth, thankful for the sour taste. England's face flushed either at the comment, or the fact that his rum bottle was almost empty.

"I needed some time to think."

America pulled his glass to his lips and gulped the foul tasting liquid down. The bartender, grabbed it and refilled it. With a feeling of nostalgia, America was put in to a further bad mood.

"Wonderful." He said dryly. Alfred stared down at the wood of the bar, almost wanting to trace his fingers in the sharp turns in the colors. He breathed in deeply and then plunged himself back to drinking. No sense it letting it go to waste. With the new addition of alcohol, America was suddenly feeling much more talkative- or curious.

"What do you need to think of anyway?" Alfred watched England pull the new bottle away from his lips.

"I'm sure it would do nothing but bore you, love." Well, that was something new...

"Really man. Just tell me," There was a pause, no answer, so America pushed again, "Arthur. Arthur. Get over yourself. I probably won't remember any of this in the morning." There was another pause. And when America nearly turned back to his drink, England cracked.

"Oh, alright..." England let out a huff and sent another all too needed gulp of rum down his throat. America almost smiled. Almost.

"France is being an even more exceptional wanker lately. Going on about his stupid tactics in love and how I could never get anywhere in a relationship, only based on my past ones, mind you! I was a perfectly good lover! But, of course, the bloody frog would not let me hear the end of it and it seemed to put a damper in my mood much worse than I expected." England talked quickly, taking slight pauses to sip on his new rum bottle, then continue his rant.

Really. That's what England was all bent out of shape about? Not being very romantic? America felt a small smile come to his face. Maybe he should test that...

"Oh don't look at me like that, Alfred! Oh bloody hell! I didn't mean change to that! I should wipe that smug expression of your face! H-hey! Don't grin wider!" England twirled his bottle for emphasis. This only made the younger nation smile more. The bartender watched silently once more, after filling the drinks of some other customers. His gaze drifted back to the two nations frequently, seeming to be either amused or deeply worried with their conversation. America downed his half a glass quickly, making his stomach do flips and turns but he ignored the sickening feeling. He plucked the bottle out of England's hands, also ignoring the older nations whines of protest.

Alfred raised an eyebrow and grinned once more. He was close enough to easily see the deep shades of England's eyes, close enough to see the hue of red in the nations cheeks, close enough to be engulfed in the all too wonderful scent that he had denied for so long. Either America was drunker then he thought, of England instinctively leaned in.

"Why don't you show me?" A simple question.

"What? Sh-show you what?" England's voice was nervous. Shaky, even. He even leaned away some, but not too much.

"How would you get rid of this smug look of mine?" Another simple question. Arthur however, must have found the question too difficult. Drunk bastard. England reeled away, nearly falling out of his stool, causing America to have to grab his wrist to steady the falling nation, and to steady himself as well, had to grip the edge of the bar.

It seemed America didn't know his own strength.

Alfred ending up cracking the frame of the bar in his hands, splinters broke through his skin as he griped the wood so tightly the edge of the counter caved in, cracking loudly even in the already loud conditions. This, and many other things, the bartender had not expected.

"Arthur! You dumbass!" America yelled, he pulled the Brit back up steady and then released his deathly grip on the counter frame. The bartender stood, now completely lost in listening to the conversation, as well as his eyes flickering back to his busted counter.

"It was your fault! Don't come so close to me!"

"I'll do whatever I want!"

"Stop! No! What do you think you're doing! Wh-Alfred!" America grinned that same smile again.

"But I just wanted to know if France was right or not." He was doing things rather simply today.

"...What? By finding out what?" England, America concluded, must have been very drunk to not understand by now. America leaned forward, causing a deeper shade of red to color England face, and stopped a few inches away, to the point where it would be so easy to just claim the Brit already.

"Finding out if you're a good lover or not." This one, this single one simple statement earned America a flustered response of mutterings and usually a good curse word somewhere in there now and then, an array of mangled words to sprout from England's mouth, so incoherently, so unreadable, that America wasn't really sure if Arthur had forgotten how to speak or not.

Eventually, England was able to regain himself, and managed a glare.

"I am a good lover, you twat!"

"Then show me."

"Why would I need to show you? I am and that's that!" Why was England making this so difficult? America sighed and turned back towards his drink.

"Guess I'll just have to talk to France then. I'm sure he would love _to have me for dinner_." America knew he was playing dirty. Playing with things he really should learn to leave alone. But the appeal was too great. England stopped, eyes open about as wide as they could possibly go, and staring at America like those were the forbidden words. America smiled behind his glass, waiting for England to make a move.

"There is no way in hell that is happening, Alfred," England glowered, "_I will not allow it." _England pulled the drink from America, much like America had done just a moment ago, and pulled at his hand.

"_But of course not here…" _England snapped and pushed through the confused patrons of the bar.

"Yo! But all those drinks and that uh…well, the actual bar on my tab!" America yelled back to the waiter, and allowed himself to be carried off. England pulled him across the parking lot, pulling the car door open and shoving him inside all very quickly. America would play the obedient one for now. England seated himself down, locking the doors for good measure apparently.

"Now you listen here, France could never do better than I could. I'm the best of the best, got it?" England pointed a drunken finger at him.

"I think I need an example." England's cheeks hued further at that. America leaned only a few inches forward before England decided to just go for it. And America was all too happy to oblige. England was probably a better kisser, but alcohol tends to mess such functions up, much America's chagrin. England was being sloppy, too sloppy to make the kiss very enjoyable for either of them. America pulled away some, and muttered at the perfect moment:

"You can do better than that, can't you England?" That really got Arthur going. England grabbed him tightly by the chin, a little too tightly in fact, and America was surprised to see drunk England with any strength at all. They were brought together once more, diving much further than before. Their tongues connected, twisting around each other's, but England somehow got the upper-hand. He pushed America's back, grabbing a fist full of Alfred's hair and pulling him closer, tripping him onto the other chair. England went everywhere, trying through his drunken haze to show America the best of his ability, which America would be forever grateful for.

They stayed like this, attacking each other's mouths, surrounding each other in kisses. America broke off, smiling widely, running his fingers in England's hair, finding the taste of rum so much more appealing. England panted loudly, and looked up at Alfred.

"Was that enough proof for you?" Arthur asked smugly, seeing America's expression of bliss. Alfred's face turned wicked, he reached over, grabbing the key's from England and took full advantage of being in the driver's seat. He leaned forward, England's wolfish grin disappearing quickly.

"You know… I don't think that was good enough. I think I need an all-night observation." America started the car, and England could only smile at the thought.

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It was a shame. Such a shame. America sighed, more dejected than he was before, and looked down at England's head in his lap. The old sod had fallen asleep. Fallen right the hell asleep when they were just about to get to the best part. America pulled England up, dragging him out the car and into his house. He couldn't have even made it to his freaking house! Couldn't have made it till they got up the stairs!

"Oh no! Couldn't have made it into the house. Nooo! That would have been too easy, wouldn't it England? Couldn't have that now could we?!" America yelled furiously at himself, or rather to the sleeping nation, as he dropped him onto the couch. This was going to be a long, uneventful, unpleasing night. Go figure.


End file.
